


Laundry Day - oneshot

by shy_fox



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy_fox/pseuds/shy_fox
Summary: Kanan was a master of many things. Well, ok - maybe not master, but he was pretty good at a lot of things. Some things. A few, select things. That’s what he tried to tell Hera when she thrust a basket of dirty clothes at him and told him to deal with them.





	

Kanan was a master of many things. Well, ok - maybe not master, but he was pretty good at a lot of things. Some things. A few, select things. That’s what he tried to tell Hera when she thrust a basket of dirty clothes at him and told him to deal with them, but she’d ignored him and walked away. The Jedi had grumpily left the Ghost, laundry basket in hand, and had found a small building full of washers and dryers. He’d paid his dues after his eyebrows came down from the ceiling from the price and realised that he had no freaking clue how to wash anyone else’s clothing. 

 

The basket contained a mix of paint-splattered black - obviously Sabine’s - a bright orange flight suit with cream shirt covered in grease - Hera’s - and a miscellaneous mish-mash of what he guessed were Ezra’s and Zeb’s. The basket contained a few items of his own clothing and he happily threw those into the washer with no qualms. His hand strayed over Hera’s flight suit and then Sabine’s artistically splattered clothing, and then to Zeb and Ezra’s, and then back again to Hera’s. Kanan made a pained noise of indecision: he didn’t know if he should separate their stuff, and he didn’t want to anyway because of the price of renting the machine. He shrugged and, making the first mistake of the day, tipped all the clothes in with his. 

 

Kanan first noticed something was wrong when he looked up from the dated magazine where he’d been learning about fashionable knits for Twi’leks and saw that the water in the clear plastic bubble of his machine was a weird bluey-purple.

“Oh no no no No!”   
He scrambled over and jammed his thumb onto the Stop button, nervously watching as the machine drained and he pulled out the streaky purple remains of Hera’s once-cream shirt.    
“She’s gonna kill me…”   
He held it up to the light to examine the damage, and then pulled the rest of the still-wet load of clothes out. His shirt had been similarly ruined by the running paint from Sabine’s stuff, with streaks showing up on the bright orange flight suit. It was also then that he noticed the shiny patches on the rest of the clothes, and cringed as he realised they’d been covered in the grease he’d noticed on Hera’s clothes.

“I'm sure it'll be ok when they're dry…”

He sorted the wet clothes into piles and, sighing at the extra expense, took over two more laundry machines.

 

He sat there nervously watching the machines for the rest of their cycles. Sabines’ clothes rinsed out fine (or maybe he just couldn’t tell because they were black) but Hera’s looked like they were going to be permanently stained with paint residue. He ran them on another cycle, doubling the amount of soap, just in case. While that machine hummed again he moved Sabine’s now-clean clothes to a dryer, fishing another credit out of his pocket and turning it on. The machine beeped - it needed a heat level for input - and he shrugged and turned the crank all the way around in his second mistake of the day.

“The hotter it is, the quicker it’ll dry and the sooner I can get back…”   
He sat back down and grabbed the magazine, getting comfortable just in time for the machine containing the mishmash of his, Ezra and Zeb’s clothes to beep out in completion. Sighing Kanan dropped the magazine and went to tend to it - they were mostly unaffected by their paint bath, with only a slight purplish tint to some of his shirts and a weird smell the Jedi hoped would burn out in the dryer. The first one hadn’t finished yet and he paused the machine to throw the rest in with Sabine’s stuff with another shrug. 

 

Kanan got extremely invested in the magazine and before he knew it the final washing machine was finishing up its last rinse. With trepidation he pulled Hera’s clothes out of the washer and sighed with relief: the paint had rinsed out completely and returned her clothes to their normal shades with no tinting. The first dryer was almost done and so he took over a second one, cranking the dial all the way around again in an attempt to get this over and done with. Returning once more to his magazine he sighed and tried to concentrate on the glossy pages. A weird chemical burning smell filled the small building and he looked up to peer nervously into the dryers in an attempt to determine which garment was trying to set itself on fire. Neither seemed to be visibly smoking, and he uneasily returned to look at the same damn sentence at the start of the same damn article he’d been trying to read for the last two hours.

 

The first dryer beeped like a herald of doom. Kanan threw the magazine aside in frustration and opened it. The tumble of freshly-dried clothes cascaded into the laundry basket and he felt it was beyond him to fold them, choosing to leave them crumpled in a heap. The second still showed the bright orange going around and he settled back on the cheap plastic seating, pulling his basket of clean laundry towards him and reluctantly started pairing socks that looked similar so he could pretend that he was a functional grownup who did proper laundry. He hadn’t even known that they collectively owned that many socks, let alone that they were all black or grey. It was impossible to determine exactly which pair belonged to who, and so they all got dumped back into the basket with a shrug that said ‘it’ll work itself out’. 

 

The pairing took longer than he anticipated and by the time he was done the second dryer had rolled to a stop and beeped its completion. Kanan got up and nudged the washing basket back over to the wall of dryers, opening it and making a face. It was clear that Hera’s clothes had been the source of the weird chemical smell. He grabbed the orange flight suit… and held it up to check it. Something was wrong, and as he realised what it was it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over it - he held the now much-smaller flight suit up to himself and his jaw dropped. That’d be the reason for the chemical stench.

“Oh… sh….”

It looked like it belonged to a child. The rest of the clothes were fine, it was just the bright orange suit that had shrunk in the dryer. Hera was going to be so angry with him.

 

Like a convenient plot device, the commlink on his waist cracked to life.

_ “Kanan?” _   
“Uh oh,” he murmured grabbing the device. “Hey Hera.”

_ “Hey! Are you almost done? We’ve resupplied and are ready to go.” _

“Uh… yeah… hey question, how many of those flight suits do you have?”   
_ “My flight suits? I have a couple, not that many…” _

Her voice changed.

_ “Kanan what did you do?” _

“Nothing!”

It was true - technically speaking, the dryer was the one who had shrunk her clothes.

_ “You shrank it didn’t you. Dammit Kanan you had one job!” _

“I told you I wasn’t good at this!”   
_ “Even Chopper can do the laundry! I knew I should have sent someone else with you… did you at least make sure you didn’t wash Sabine’s clothes with the rest?” _   
“Uh…”   
_ “Oh Kanan…” _ Her voice had gone from angry to disappointed and it made his heart break.  _ “Come back to the Ghost and we’ll figure something out.” _

“It’s not that bad, it rinsed out.”

_ “That’s something good, at least.” _

“I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry, Hera. I really am.”   
_ “It’s fine. I’ll see you soon.” _

Kanan put the commlink back onto his belt and gathered the basket in his arms with a sigh, turning to head back to the ship.

 

It was on the way back when he walked past the clothing merchant. Maybe it was because he felt so damn guilty about ruining Hera’s clothes, but he juggled the basket of laundry and wandered closer to browse. There wasn’t anything on display that looked like something Hera would wear - her style wasn’t like the plain utilitarian clothes on offer for the women of Lothal. He made a vague inquiry to the merchant who tried her best to look helpful.

“You don’t happen to have a flight suit do you? Like…” he juggled a hand free and pulled out the shrunken suit “... this one? Just, you know, adult sized?”

The merchant fingered the suit for a few seconds and then dove under the stall, and Kanan fidgeted. She reappeared with a smile, a folded stack of orange cloth in her hands. 

 

He made it back to the Ghost in record time, the new suit hidden at the bottom of the basket. There was a welcoming committee that proceeded to roast the crap out of him as the ship took off - Sabine with her sardonic wit, and Ezra and Zeb taking turns to bluntly tease Kanan. He just sighed and let the teasing roll off him (he’d suffered worse before) and put the laundry down in the main area. Like buzzards the crew came and collected their clothes, Sabine and Ezra arguing over which socks belonged to who. They picked the basket over and left his and Hera’s stuff alone before fleeing. Kanan picked the basket back up and headed for the bridge where Hera was piloting them through space. He nearly walked into Chopper, who chastised him and then loudly sulked his way out of the room. 

“Hera…”   
“Kanan please I’m really not in the mood.”   
He sighed and put the basket on the floor between them, swinging into the co-pilot's seat next to her.

“I, uh… got you some things as way of apology.”   
Hera’s green eyes flickered towards the basket before she refocused on the console in front of her. Kanan grinned - he had her attention. 

“I found this at a trader.” 

He held up the replacement flight suit and Hera looked at it with joy. Impulsively she flung herself out of her seat and across to hug Kanan, pressing a kiss to his cheek.   
“Woah Hera, the Ghost!”

She grunted and leaned over to switch on the autopilot, one arm still around Kanan’s neck. 

“Thank you.”

His grin widened.

“No problem!”   
Hera looked down at the laundry basket and arched an eyebrow at the silky, frilly contents.

“Looks like that’s not the only thing you bought.”   
Kanan’s grin was the widest yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Kanan is not great at laundry. He's not allowed back without supervision until he learns.


End file.
